The Case of Victor Trevor
by Eligrl77
Summary: A new and gruesome case brings out a Sherlock that John had no idea existed.


I had worked with Sherlock closely by this particular case. We had seen hundreds of grizzly crimes committed by the people of London. I had thought we had seen everything. He always would say it was two of us against the world. Even after his fall and eventual resurrection. Nothing tore quite into him as the case of Victor Trevor. Nothing like this case before had made me see him more emotionally vulnerable. It wasn't till this case I realized his great and burning love he had for me.

One text from Lestrade had us quickly going to an estate. Sherlock on the ride over in the cab seemed as his usual self. He was giddy to finally have a new case. He moved around his seat, anxious. It was quite a long two hours of Sherlock drumming his fingers to some unknown classical piece. I learned later Lestrade hadn't said much about the case within the text. Nor was he told where exactly in Langmere we were going till we got closer. The address was sent to him by Lestrade as well. There I saw the transformation in Sherlock's eyes and spirit. He grew much pale. I thought I had observed him shaking. He quickly told the cabbie where we needed to go. We pulled up to a large estate with and Sherlock just about bolted out of the car. I knew it wasn't because of the long journey either. He didn't even bother to stop and help me through the crime scene tape like he normally does. He was practically _running _into the place like a mad man. I was confused and a bit in a daze about the entire affair. Why was he acting like this, so suddenly? I took my time walking. I would be able to understand more soon enough.

Lestrade was standing near the large double doors. He greeted me and asked if I had ever seen Sherlock like this. I admitted that I hadn't. He went on about something with Sherlock befriending him in Uni. He only knew the extremely little Sherlock told him. He practically knocked people out of his way to get to the crime scene itself. I knew he could be a git sometimes, but this was different. The first thing I noticed was the amount of hate graffiti written on the door and the floors leading to the scene. Badly graffiti phrases such as "god hates fags," "god hates uk," "burn in hell," and the menacing message "God hates you." One without having to guess suggested this was a serious hate crime. More than one person. I figured that with this amount of writing decorating the scene. I knew I was getting closer to the blood stained shoe outlines coloring the wooden stairs leading I assumed to the bedrooms. All I heard was the murmur of officers talking and pictures being taken of the crime scene. A massive amount of blood stains trailed to a master bedroom.

I saw Sherlock with his knees on the carpet. He was weeping loudly, uncontrollably. My instincts told me to shake him. He wasn't acting right since he got here. As I grew closer, he was kneeling towards the white sheeted body. I wasn't going to be a prick and ask him if he had deduced the scene already. He had practically scared everyone else out of the room acting like this. Everyone was use to Sherlock being so flamboyant and showing off. This was certainly what no one expected him to be like.

I didn't say anything at first. I waited for those moments where his sobbing stopped to ask what was wrong. It was the least I could do. He took at me in his tear stained eyes. He did this for a number of minutes before he spoke again.

"This _was _Victor Trevor," he said his voice shaken. He lightly pulled down the sheet so we could look at his face. The resemblance to Sherlock was uncanny. He too had long black curls. He looked of Greek decent. Sherlock out of character took his head into his arms, stroking his curls. Very quietly, kissed his forehead and pulled the sheet back over his head where he was. Before I could say another word, he bolted out of the room. I took the obvious hint he wanted to be left alone. Lestrade came back up to the room not long after. We discussed theories and tried to quietly avoid the act we saw Sherlock cry. Cry like he was heartbroken. It disturbed us both greatly. I was extremely thankful for Sally had the day off. Any smart remarks by her, and I would have probably punched her square in the jaw myself.

Lestrade was convinced it was a local hate group. The group T.O.B, which meant turn or burn. He had been warned about their activities, but all they had done is protest at soldier's funerals and anywhere gay people would occupy. The lingo they left on the walls was in line with their usual signs. It was usually more of the protestors being attacked, due to the negative attention given to them by the media. Trevor had gone to live in the United States with his mother for a time. He was visiting at his father's house.

We all awkwardly waited for a time around for Sherlock to calm down. Unfortunately, he never did. His back was to us on sofa, sulking softly. Lestrade kindly suggested that maybe we could try another time. I apologized to Lestrade as I made my way downstairs. I went to where he was, slightly impatient and annoyed to let him know we could leave. The silence continued as our we got into the cab. It would have kept going if I didn't say anything.

"Sherlock… what was all that about in there?" I asked. He looked straight at me, deadpanned.

"Victor Trevor and I were boyfriends for a time in Uni. I lived with him and his father for two years. He was my only friend. He got rid of me once drugs overtook my life. I became ungrateful, arrogant, and unkind. He deserved better John. I was terrible to him."

"Why didn't you tell me this? I didn't even know you were…"

"It didn't matter before. I thought nothing like this would ever happen to him. You asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said nothing, because I respected him. He deserved to go off quietly into the night. That doesn't mean however I never stopped caring for him! I never thought I would fall in love again to be quite frank. Until…"

"Until what, Sherlock?" I asked him. There was a long pause. I was convinced he wasn't going to answer me and then I heard it.

"Until I met you John Watson," he looked at me with those eyes of his. His words sent chills down my spine. I was so shocked, I couldn't speak.

"What on earth do you mean? You never told me you cared."

"I knew you did though. The way you always responded to me, respected me. You kept telling everyone you weren't gay. You were fighting yourself from day one. So I said nothing. Out of fear, respect for your feelings?" he spat out as he turned his head to face the scenery outside the window. I was jarred by this confession, as I didn't see it coming. The rest of our journey home was veiled in silence and continued to do so for a few days.

Sherlock practically avoided seeing me, let alone anyone. I assumed he was deeply upset by this entire situation. At least Mrs. Hudson was getting him to eat some of her famous Green Pea Soup. Even that was an effort apparently. Despite everything, he was working aggressively hard on the case. T.O.B. had its unfortunate roots in London with the help of the American hate group Wellsboro Baptist Church. Its founder, Will Brown was found to have conspired as well as three other men. They had a very long hit list of people and businesses. Without Sherlock's help in the matter, they could have spread even more across. He was only doing this as justice for Victor. He made sure with the help of Mycroft his killers would never see the light of day outside of jail. This wasn't something he was doing to brag about. He was doing this out of his own grief toward the matter.

I took Sherlock's hand in mine quietly when the verdict was announced for Will and the others. He squeezed mine ever so tightly as the verdicts were read. They were being escorted by the police before they could speak more venom. Mostly everyone was happy to see these men be put away.

He slowly came back to his senses overtime. He grew tired of the green pea soup and started eating her blueberry muffins. Something Mrs. Hudson was eagerly delighted about. The violin came back to annoy me. At least he wasn't shooting the wall… yet. We were happy together. We were better together all along. This horrible situation had solidified what we knew all along: we truly loved each other.


End file.
